


don't hold your breath (we're jumping in)

by carentans



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Drunk NYE, George Gets Cold?, George Gets Into Trouble, George is Dumb, I Just Wanted Something Fun!, Joe is a Great BF, M/M, Obligatory New Years Fluff, Shenanigans Were Done, They're Really in Love It's Gross, dumb fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 16:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17369321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carentans/pseuds/carentans
Summary: Sometimes, George has dumb ideas.





	don't hold your breath (we're jumping in)

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory new years eve fic that i wrote that night and never posted  
> plot based on the phrase "we probably shouldn't be doing this."
> 
> i just wanted fluffy nonsense so here yall go

George Luz was a thinker. He was creative. He crafted ideas and freely shared them with friends. 

His friends, however, found George saying _“so i was thinking..._ ” to be a dangerous phrase. 

Usually, his ideas were just stupid, pointless suggestions, he acted on just ‘cause. 

Maybe, he had thought, it would be a good idea to blend up a whole pizza for ease of eating. (It wasn’t.) Or maybe he could do his homework outside and enjoy the weather (turns out, 5 new dogs just moved into his building, and George liked dogs a lot). Or maybe it would be funny if him and Perco put blue dye in Babe’s shampoo. (Not exactly nice, but Babe knew how to take a joke and got his revenge by dumping glitter throughout his apartment.)

Sometimes, the ideas were very bad. 

When George announced his plan to mix together five 5-Hour Energies to get “a maximum 25 hours” of energy in preparation for finals, Speirs looked him dead in the eye and asked if he wanted to die immediately, and George threw every bottle away without question. (He wasn’t sure if Speirs was threatening him for being annoying or for his risky behavior, but George knew better than to argue.) 

And he had those ideas _sober_.

New Year's Eve was the prime time for recklessness. It was the last day of the year and rightfully deserving of a proper send off. Then it would be January, the Monday of months, where people were boring and no fun was had, ever. 

The best time to have an idea on New Year's was ten minutes before midnight. In that time, he ran on adrenaline, gathering what he needed to execute his idea as the year started anew. It would be an action that happened simultaneous between two years, and who was George to resist that temptation?

“ **We probably shouldn’t be doing this** ,” Malarkey said but made no attempt to leave. 

“One minute,” Skip yelled from a distance. 

“Yeah, but we’re already out here.” George pointed out, and Malarkey was drunk enough to find his logic reasonable. 

The party raged on beneath them in excited anticipation of a new year. The neighborhood was quiet, empty homes of vacationers the only witness to the chaos.

George had been quick to get sucked into celebrating. He was a party person. He was never without a drink, either someone bringing him one or him stealing it, and he wandered through the rooms, mingling with every group present. 

He didn’t reach the kitchen until 11:45, and the moment he looked out the window to the backyard, he had made up his mind. 

George downed the rest of his drink and spotted Malarkey on the porch. Making his way over there, he encouraged Malarkey to finish his own drink and pointed expectantly into the darkness of the yard. 

“See what I see?” George had asked. 

To which Skip replied, “ _Jesus Christ_.” He didn’t stop them from disappearing into the house, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Skip stood diligently at the back door, interested to see where this would lead but silently pleading for anyone slightly more responsible than he to help.

George and Malarkey stood on the roof overlooking the swimming pool. They had found an empty bedroom, stumbled through the window, and waited. 

George didn’t consider much when he was reminded of the pool. He looked out the window and remembered they were in a two-story house. Out of all the ridiculous things he had done in his life, George had never jumped off a roof into a pool, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity.

The countdown began, and George thought about the water temperature.

Malarkey shifted beside him, crouching down like a runner preparing his sprint. 

They looked at each other on _three_ , nodded dumbly on _two_ , and hollered a war cry on _one_ , leaping from the roof. 

The water was _cold_. 

George touched down before Malarkey, and they both made rather satisfying splashes, sloshing water onto the deck. The pool wasn’t that deep, or George wasn’t that tall, so after drifting safely to the bottom, he kicked off with not-broken legs to return to fresh air. 

Malarkey let out a shout once he was topside, splashing water at George. 

George shook the water from his hair and shivered. He couldn’t seem to find the energy to return his playfulness and keep himself afloat.

They slowly paddled their way to the edge of the pool, thoroughly chilled to the bone. They each had a drink too many, and a familiar task like swimming suddenly became cautious, like each stroke had to be perfect or they’d immediately sink to the bottom. 

George had only wanted to _jump_ in.

Clearly, the thinking had stopped there. Paying no regard to the fact his stunt meant submerging underwater and having to swim to keep from drowning, George realized he could easily jump off a building and made it happen.

Though the celebration inside was loud and joyous, their little leap had drawn attention. Their friends piled outside, curiosity peaked.

“From the roof?” Lipton yelled, exasperated. “In the middle of winter?” He no longer needed any explanation to be exhausted by George’s decisions. 

“Oh, fuck, he got Malarkey,” Perconte said, the first one to the edge of the pool. He stared down at them unhelpfully. He’d known them for long enough that his help would go unappreciated, and he would end up in the pool himself.

Guarnere appeared torn between anger and laughter. He made his way to the pool and doubled over at the sight of them clinging to the edge. “Get a load of these idiots,” he threw out but offered a hand to Malarkey.

“What the fuck, Luz,” a voice grumbled above him before a hand bunched in the back of his jacket, and he was pulled out, left shivering on the cold concrete.

Squatted beside him was a very tired Joe Toye. He looked between him and Malarkey, the two of them undoubtedly looking like sad, wet, drunk dogs, water weighing down their winter clothes. When Joe turned his attention back to George, his expression was softer. 

“Come on,” he said, tugging George to his feet. Joe didn’t worry a second more about Malarkey, just held onto George’s arm and led him inside.

George was too cold to worry about the puddles of water he tracked through the house. He focused on Joe, following half a step behind. before they reached the bedroom, George stumbled into him, leaving a George-sized water mark on his shirt.

A few steps more, and Joe pulled the door shut behind them. George was reduced to shivering, unable to convince his hands to take off his clothes. 

“I look away for thirty seconds,” Joe shook his head, turning on the shower. “You take one shot in a bar and try to take off your pants, but you jump in a pool fully dressed?” 

“I never s-said I was s-smart,” George replied and struggled in his attempt to shrug out of his jacket. “Help?” he pleaded. 

Joe didn’t look too bothered by the request no matter how hard he tried. He helped George out of his jacket, and then pulled his sweater off, letting it drop to the floor in a loud, wet noise. Joe continued, tugging George a step closer, hands expertly unfastening his belt and undoing the button on his jeans.

“Oh?” George managed suggestively, too chilled to be suave. He stepped out of his pants, sending a scathing look to the wet denim. 

“Get in the shower.” 

That was Joe asking nicely, but George thought that was a pretty swell suggestion, so he didn’t need to be directed twice.

Somewhere in his grand plan, George had kicked off his shoes and socks since it didn’t make sense to swim in sneakers (because that would be _crazy_ ). He belatedly hoped that he had also remembered to unpocket his phone and wallet, but Joe hadn’t berated him for that, so he figured he was in the clear.

George shuffled to the shower, yelping at the onslaught of hot water. He didn’t care how painful it might feel, gladly welcoming the heat. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have Joe. He got shit done, no questions asked, and that’s why George was using up all of Guarnere’s hot water instead of Malarkey.

“Coming?” George asked playfully, pulling a little at the curtain once he felt less like a popsicle and more like a real boy.

Joe didn’t dignify his question with a response and disappeared from the room.

George was able to feel his fingertips again, and from there, the cold gradually seeped away. He stood directly under the stream, prepared to stay there until next year.

The shock of hitting the freezing water had sobered him enough for George to consider his actions. The jump had been a stupid idea, but could have been stupider. Honestly, it seemed on par with his character, so he would stand by his decision. The water hadn’t been frozen solid, which meant everything went according to plan. 

(He had been, like, 80% sure the pool wasn’t frozen, and about 90% sure it was deep enough for them to safely jump from the roof without crashing to the bottom.)

Joe suddenly turned off the water, and George let out an indignant noise.

“You’ve been in there half an hour, and you don’t live here.” Joe reminded, to which George conceded unhappily.

He caught the towel tossed at him and quickly wrapped himself up. Joe rested against the counter near a pile of fresh clothes, and once George had redressed, he crowded at his side. 

George still smelled a bit like chlorine, but the sweatshirt was newly washed, smelling like flowery fabric softener. Joe smelled like cigarettes. George shivered and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Thanks,” he said, smiling into his shirt. “What would I do without Joe toye?”

Joe rubbed his back, “Drown?” He suggested.

“I know how to swim,” George shot back, petulant. “I was getting out just fine. You just happened to show up. Then you showed off and ‘rescued’ me.”

“Next time, I’ll let you handle it yourself,” Joe said lightly, but they both knew it wasn’t true. From the beginning, he’d always managed to be around in the knick of time to set George right again.

Overall, he was content with how his evening had ended and year began. The water had been unpleasant, but he had finally jumped off a roof. George burrowed closer. “Hey, Joe?” 

“Yeah, Georgie?”

“Happy 2019,” he grinned, lifting his head to look up at him. “Do I get a kiss now?” 

“I looked for you during the countdown. Think you missed your chance this year.”

George narrowed his eyes. “ _Three, two, one_. It’s the New Year somewhere. Now, come here.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Joe agreed, meeting George halfway. 

It was gentle kiss, a stark juxtaposition to their evening. 

Once they had pulled away, George stuck his hands under Joe’s shirt, and Joe grimaced at the residual cold.

“Joe?” he asked. “Let’s go home.” 

“Hell of an idea, George.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Not representational of the real men. Solely based off the portrayals from the HBO series.
> 
> 2\. Kinda edited. Sometimes unrealistic.
> 
> 3\. Title credit to _Dive_ by Coast Modern.
> 
> 4\. follow me on tumblr @ capnixons


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